Bouncing Off A Satellite

The last twenty-four hours have been a study in contrasts.

Tuesday night, I woke to the sound of crickets, wind, and waves.

This morning, I woke to the sound of air horns, sirens, and traffic.

Wednesday morning, I jogged past modest, gray clapboard houses on a sparkling Madaket Bay.

This morning, I jogged past multi-million dollar, gold-tinted, flashing light-strewn high rise hotels and casinos.

I left Nantucket on Cape Air flight #1 at 6:05. Eight hours later, I arrived some 2800 miles west at Las Vegas’ McCarran airport.

This year’s MTV Video Music Awards are being held at The Palms. En route to MTV News’ makeshift offices, I passed a woman sucking on oxygen, leaning on a walker and dropping playing the Wheel of Fortune slot.

Six, hours later she was still there.

Twelve hours later, I finally checked into my room, ordered room service, and collapsed into bed.

Six hours after that, I woke from a nightmare. I was standing in my front yard with a few buddies from high school. The dusk was painted red. The atmosphere was shimmering and shaking, broken by strange light waves. I came to with a melody in my head, and this lyric on repeat: “I’m floating away…”

It says nothing. But somehow says it all.